Sixty-Four: Leaving (Lena)

LENA

I didn't speak as Sienna led me back to the training grounds.

The trees blurred around us, branches shivering under a wind that hadn't existed minutes ago. My chest ached, raw and hollow. I could still see her—Adelaide—bloody and broken on that table, her body bearing the same carved symbols that had haunted my skin. My bones. My nightmares.

I didn't realize I was shaking until Sienna pressed a hand to my back and said, "Breathe, Lena. You're safe now."

Safe.

I hated that word. It tasted like lies and old blood.

But I didn't argue. I just nodded and stepped into the circle of packed earth, stripped off my overshirt, and planted my feet.

"Again," I said.

Sienna blinked. "We haven't started."

"Then start. Or I will."